


crossfire

by cookiemonsta



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Injury, M/M, One Shot, Protective Danny, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiemonsta/pseuds/cookiemonsta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes a bullet for Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crossfire

It's dusk. The light is fading with each passing minute and Steve sighs heavily, knowing that each second is a second wasted until they have their perp in cuffs. Local intel has led them to an abandoned warehouse in search of Jerry Santiago, a convicted drug dealer and all around scumbag who's been trying to sell coke to minors. They've turned the warehouse – Santiago's base of operations – upside down, but apart from kilograms of cocaine and a serious rat infestation, they've found no sign of Santiago himself.

It's frustrating as hell, but Steve furrows his brow against the setting sun and adjusts the gun in his hands with steady, careful movements.  
  
A hand drops onto his shoulder out of nowhere and squeezes, the pressure warm and familiar, before Danny swaggers into view and says, “Easy tiger,” with that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that Steve may or may not find maddeningly attractive in ways he'd rather not think about. “Santiago's as good as caught, alright? Just stop with the aneurysm face and keep looking.”  
  
And like the worst kind of practical joke, Santiago chooses that moment to make an appearance.  
  
Danny is distracted, throwing his arms in the air and talking about all the relaxation therapy Steve's going to need, not to mention blood pressure medication, and Steve watches in horror as Santiago raises his weapon and alternates pointing it between the two of them, like he can't quite decide who he'd like to shoot first.  
  
Steve has trained for moments like these. He knows how to react and what to say, even what kind of stance to assume, but none of that matters now. Danny hasn't noticed Santiago yet, and his turned back presents an easy target, one that Santiago is surely aware of. Steve also knows that shooting Santiago isn't going to work – as much as he'd like to empty a clip in the guy's face – not if there's a chance of him shooting Danny in the process.  
  
But when Steve sees the barrel of the gun settle on Danny, he doesn't hesitate.  
  
He puts himself between Danny and the bullet, bracketing Danny's body with his own, and knows he's anticipated the trajectory perfectly because seconds later he feels the bullet sink into his shoulder-blade.  
  
He hisses in a breath at the pain, dimly aware of the way he's fitted himself against Danny from head to toe; without a sliver of space between them. His hands are clasped over Danny's, their fingers interlaced against the brick facade of the warehouse, and even through the pain Steve can feel Danny's breath shudder in and out, a perfect match for each ragged breath he takes of his own. For a moment they stay that way, intertwined, until Danny springs to life against Steve in a flurry of activity. He turns in place, pulling Steve flush against his chest, and fires two shots over Steve's slouching shoulder.  
  
Santiago must go down, because Steve can _feel_ Danny relax against him.  
  
There's wetness running down Steve's back, and he knows it's blood without having to check. His vision swims alarmingly and he feels heavy, weighted down like his bones have turned to lead, and there are hands on his face, smoothing over his cheeks like they're wiping away tears. Steve wants to laugh, to tell Danny that he's a pushover and it's just a flesh wound, he's fine, but he can't seem to make his mouth cooperate. His vision blurs, everything softening at the edges, and Danny's face – grey and pinched with worry – is the last thing he sees before darkness.  
  
Steve wakes up in a hospital bed, and the first thing he notices other than a throbbing pain in his shoulder, is Danny.  
  
His shock of dirty blonde hair is hopelessly, beautifully mussed and he's fallen asleep on top of his forearms, which are crossed over each other next to Steve's hip. His shirt is wrinkled to hell, the hem pulling loose from his slacks, and even though it's obvious that Danny hasn't slept in a while, Steve feels something pull tight in his chest at the sight of him.  
  
It says something about Danny that even in sleep, he invades Steve's personal space like it's his own. Steve smiles at the thought, running a hand through Danny's hair like he's wanted to for so damn long, and can't really find it in himself to complain.  
  
Danny groans, a shameless, sinful noise that clenches low in Steve's belly, and blinks awake. Steve stalls the inevitable rant that's coming by pushing a thumb against Danny's mouth.  
  
“Don't. What's done is done, I'm fine, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”  
  
Danny _mmmph_ s against Steve's thumb.  
  
The next moment he's leaning over and sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth and kissing him with the kind of desperation that boggles Steve's mind. It's a filthy, desperate, life-affirming kind of kiss, and Steve gives as good as he gets, getting a hand into Danny's hair and angling his mouth where he wants it.  
  
Danny tastes like stale coffee, malasadas and everything Steve's ever wanted.  
  
“All I was gonna say,” Danny pants against Steve's mouth, “is _thankyou_.” He brings their mouths together again, softer this time, and Steve smiles into the kiss. “And that you're an idiot.”  
  
Steve laughs against Danny's mouth, his breath ghosting over Danny's lips. “Guess I've been called worse,” he says, pulling Danny in for another kiss. If this is his punishment, it's one he'll suffer gladly.

_fin._


End file.
